


Misshapen Silhouettes

by princess_bubblegum



Series: Comment ficlets [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Allusions to death, Blood, Gen, Guns, Knives, Monsters, Vague descriptions of violence, WARNINGS:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 23:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3547793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princess_bubblegum/pseuds/princess_bubblegum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/604723.html?thread=84149043#t84149043">any sci-fi (or supernatural). any</a>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <a href="http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/604723.html?thread=84149043#t84149043">Twisted shapes</a>
  <br/>
  <a href="http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/604723.html?thread=84149043#t84149043">of impossible creatures;</a>
  <br/>
  <a href="http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/604723.html?thread=84149043#t84149043">landscapes that appear</a>
  <br/>
  <a href="http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/604723.html?thread=84149043#t84149043">as if across a curtain</a>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <a href="http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/604723.html?thread=84149043#t84149043">
    <em>(Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer - Rima III)</em>
  </a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misshapen Silhouettes

**Author's Note:**

> I did say this was original work, but it is based on/inspired by a stanza in the poem Rima III by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer. This is not meant to be infringement, or plagiarism in any way, I'm not gonna like publish it, just, a prompt fill.  
> *nods* Yeeeeaaah... Anywho, here you go.

She snuffed out the candle, fearing the dark, but her fear that the light would betray her was greater. Tentatively she steps, the noise seeping throughout the room.  
It was near, she could feel it. She could feel it from the place, deep, deep down, where every person's most primary instincts are. She did not have facts, she did not need them.  
She had to get out of here, swiftly she gathered a small bag of coins, and pulled a cloak to her shoulders. She thought of the small dagger she always kept in her bodice, easily accessible through a discreetly split seam in her dress. It wouldn't be enough. Yanking open the drawers, she pulled out two longer daggers and put one in each boot, struggling against the ruffles of her skirts for a moment. She glanced around frantically as she took her gun as well.  
There was no use in discretion now, it knew she was here.  
There was no time.  
It was there then, almost like a shadow. It didn't really have a color, just focusing on it made your eyes swim, like it wasn't meant to be seen. She seemed to be the only one able to see it. But she knew it was real. The gruesome images of mangled bodies it had left in it's wake were not just nightmares.  
She shot it three times, and it was gone, but not for long.  
She tore out the door, not glancing back. Bailey whinnied as she untethered him, he could feel it too. She swung up onto the horse and they put the tiny cabin on the horizon.  
Hooves sailed across the grassy hills of the moors. The land stretched in front of them, folding like the red velvet drapes of her childhood home.  
She thought to her first encounter with that horror. Those burgundy curtains turned bright red, seeping with blood.  
She wished it was just a nightmare.


End file.
